


Warmth

by meradorm



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:15:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26743477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meradorm/pseuds/meradorm
Summary: One of you monsterfuckers commissioned a Gehrman/Laurence fic. Here is that fic.Trans Laurence, beast Laurence.
Relationships: Gehrman the First Hunter/Laurence
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Warmth

Gehrman comes here in his dreams, and every time, he can feel him near.

At first he only savored it. He was barely there, in the dream, in the Nightmare. Sometimes he couldn't even move. He'd whisper his name. Laurence. Laurence. 

Do you remember me, even now?

And his ache reached out towards Laurence, and his ache settled within him, and soon it became something more. Something that made his heart beat, muscles vibrate with life, like a young dragonfly just learning how to beat its thin wings.

He came here to suffer. But the man he loved was near.

Soon he could walk. 

He spent time roaming, as much time as he was allowed, saw Laurence's sins all around him, the landscape, blasted by fire. He wandered, and he searched for him. The way he followed him in life, like a dog. Slayed his monsters, absolved his sins.

He was happy to be that for him.

No one touched him there, not the mad hunters, not the trembling beasts. They knew he was king of this land, that he was the Hunter, that the nightmare was his.

Gehrman found the Cathedral, and his body followed his, and as soon as he got almost close enough to reach him his dream faded every time, as if the masters of the cosmos wouldn't allow him this. But he preservered. He fought for him.

And one day he reached him.

He wasn't how he was when Brador killed him. He was a towering beast. Burning for his sins.

He was still the man he loved.

So when he reached for him, the flames didn't burn him, and he was unsurprised.

He was frail for a beast, wiry and thin, the way he had been in life. Gehrman crawled up onto his body, as it breathed and heaved in his sleep, and spread himself across him, resting on his soft warmth. Even now Laurence felt tender.

"I thought you'd be different," he told him. "I thought you'd be real and alive."

But it wasn't what he expected. Some flayed, headless thing. He was intact. He was immaculate. As much as this place would allow - and really, when didn't it allow that? They had to live with it, that's what the blood did to them, the blood and the Nightmare, they had to live there in their sin.

Gehrman felt Laurence's hot breath, the way his chest rose and fell. He felt himself getting, shamefully, aroused.

It was just the same to him, he realized, if he had been laying on top of him, in bed at night, a young scholar...

Laurence's hand - claw - creaked around him, and at first Gehrman was startled by the sound, and then afraid, as if he were caged in. Then he realized that Laurence was holding him. And he knew what Laurence wanted next.

He slid down from his chest and nestled between his furred legs. He pressed his hand in between his hips, which were narrow and wiry, almost human.

He stroked the lips he found there, his fingertips catching on Laurence's hot, wet entrance.

"Oh, Laurence," he breathed. "You never told me."

He pressed his palm to it, as if he were holding something precious.

The blood did certain things to such men. Made them taller, deepened their voice. Laurence must never have wanted anyone to know.

And here he thought he had all his secrets. But he wasn't hiding a secret. His maleness was who he was.

Gehrman slipped two fingers in, and found him warm, taut, inviting. Like a hearthfire.

Laurence heaved an animal sigh, and Gehrman knew he had to have him now. 

He gritted his teeth, and with an urge and a drive suddenly sparked up in him, he pulled himself out of his trousers and worked his dick, looking at Laurence's pale white, gently furred cunt. He was going to come in there, he thought desperately, he was going to have him at last.

When he was good and hard he was struck by a sudden compassion, and he worried about hurting him. His Laurence. His reason to keep on living in that horrible dream.

He lowered his head. There was something dry and spiced about the smell of his cunt. He took his clit in his mouth and sucked it, just the way he'd suck a cock.

The beast beneath him moved, arched, just a little. Enough for Gehrman to know he was ready.

He gripped himself and guided it towards his cunt. He felt a little thrill. He could have Laurence. He could have him now.

He sank himself into that hot little cunt, all the way up to the flat of his stomach.

And then they made love, pure and simple, Laurence's deep huffs of breath and his head lolling on his throne, Gehrman passionate and giving and spreading his thighs open for him and wishing there was more to kiss, more to touch. 

Laurence came first, with a hiss of fire through his mouth, and the force of it worked Gehrman's cock, and he came too, right after him, filling him with his come. 

Then Laurence seemed to relax, in a post-coital haze at first, and then in his tomblike sleep.

"I wish I could give you more," Gehrman whispered, finally pulling his soft, aching cock out. "I wish I could have given you the world."


End file.
